What Could Have Been
by Unknown Souldreamer
Summary: What if the Organization XIII, Heartless, and Nobodies were all the fantasies of an insane man? What if Roxas and Xion were people entirely separate from Sora? What if life, for once, was normal? It's all a what if and a what could have been. An AU drabble fic featuring the Organization I to XIV. Pairings: Larxene - Arlene/Marluxia - Lumaria and Even/OC. Read and review!


_A/N: For sake of clarity, Roxas and Xion will keep their names. Everyone else will have their names before they became Nobodies, canon or the most accepted version._

_Warnings: 4th wall references, innuendos, and mentions of a lemon/lime_

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**What Should Have Been**

_No. XIV, XIII, VIII_

The two friends walk along one of the many winding roads of Radiant Garden, licking their sea-salt ice creams purchased from Scrooge McDuck. They share one of those many silences between friends – those times when words need not be said. It is a warm, summer afternoon, school is out, with nothing to do except enjoy and live in the moment.

Finally, Roxas breaks the peace, and asks Lea, "How come Isa didn't come with us?"

The redhead looks up from his ice cream, sighing, "He's been such a drag recently… Studying when it's summer, yeesh. Sometimes I even pity Braig for having to put up with him," he licks the remainder of his snack, and spins the stick idly, "We used to be three, and now we're two."

"He'll come around eventually. In the meantime -" Roxas stops mid-sentence when he notices a short, black haired girl with blue eyes. He catches her gaze, and she quickly turns away.

"In the meantime, what?" Lea looks in the direction he is in staring in. "Oh, you interested?"

"No!" Roxas says firmly. "Somehow I think I've seen her before…," he trails off, failing to notice leaving his side, and walking towards the girl. Until he hears his famous catchphrase,

"Hey, the name's Lea. Got it memorized?" Lea extends his hand towards her. Roxas mentally facepalms, and runs up to them.

"You know how corny that line is," he says to Lea.

"She isn't complaining about it like you are," Lea sticks out his tongue, an immature gesture.

He ignores him, turns to the girl, and smiles, "I'm Roxas. Sorry about my friend – he has a habit of asking people to remember his name."

She is laughing now, clearly amused. "No, no, it's fine. My name is Xion, and it's nice to meet you both."

"Want to get sea-salt ice cream?" The two boys ask in unison.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

_No. XII and XI_

She has had countless boyfriends, muscular and tough, to caring and intellectual. But she has never had a boyfriend quite like Lumaria. It is true; there probably are not many men in the world who have pink hair and an affinity for everything floral. Arlene was not even into been girly; how could they possibly be together?

The answer is simple.

She is tapping her foot impatiently at the table of a fancy, elegant, five-star restaurant. He was, as expected, late. And not fashionably late, but why even bother coming late.

When he arrives, he is out of breath. He holds out a bouquet of forget-me-nots and sunflowers. She accepts without a word, and he calls over the waiter to take his order within minutes.

"Waiter," the pink-haired man began, "I would like the filet mignon, medium well, rice to the side, sauce warm, not hot…" he rambles on for a bit, and finally finishes with, "… and the vegetables cut into pretty flowers!"

The waiter turns to Arlene and hopes she wouldn't be as fastidious. Unfortunately, she makes the same fuss over a simple salmon salad, leaving the poor waiter with an aching hand.

Eventually, he comes back with their meals, done to perfection. Almost. He is about to make his escape to the kitchen, when Lumaria calls out, "Oh waiter! One of the vegetables is not shaped like a flower! Can I have another?"

Arlene, too, makes a similar statement, "My salad does not have enough salmon! I request a new one."

The waiter is on the verge of screaming, but he stomachs the feeling and goes to collect their dishes. As he leaves, he catches faint laughter coming from their table.

"Ha! Sucker," Arlene smirks.

"Watching people suffer is so entertaining," Lumaria chuckles, and she agrees with a smile.

The answer is simple. All couples have their similarities and differences, and sometimes, and sometimes it could be the similarities that makes one stay.

* * *

_No. X and IX_

A lone musician is strumming a guitar-like instrument in the middle of Radiant Garden's park. He ignores all passers-by and only focuses on the music he creates. It is comforting and peaceful, to find happiness in his own art.

Even when a blonde Englishman stops in front of him, holding an interestingly designed deck of cards, the musician seems trapped in his own world. "Hey, boy!" Myde does not notice. "Hello, hello! You should pay attention to your elders! Not that I'm an old man, but still." Once more Myde does not respond. "Myde, you bloody wanker, if you do not stop playing the guitar and say hello, I will be forced to break it."

He looks up and is surprised to see Dolur standing in front of him, albeit irritably. "Dude, it's a sitar. How many times must I tell you?"

Dolur waves his hand listlessly. "We're skipping the formalities. You need to do something other than playing that damned guitar."

The younger man cocks his head to the side, curiously, "Like what, old man?"

Dolur quickly grabs the sitar from an unsuspecting Myde, and holds it above his head. "Remember my warning."

"Ugh. Fine. Hello. Long time no see. Can I have my sitar back now?"

"It's not what I wanted, but it'll suffice," Dolur hands it back, and grabs Myde by the wrist, pulling him out of the park.

"Huh? Where the heck are we going?" Myde yelps.

"Ever hear of gambling, kid?"

* * *

_No. VII and II_

How two opposites in every single way came to be teacher and student, is a mystery. The teacher is easygoing and flirtatious; the student is serious and expressionless. But, one can learn from the other, a constant cycle. From the teacher, he learns ease up, although slightly. His rare smile now attracts an occasional girl. From the student, he learns the benefits of keeping a pokerface – he wins more often against Dolur in blackjack.

Everything in life is a learning process, the two learn.

"Straighten your back," Isa mumbles under his breath. Braig grumbles, but does as he says.

"Smile a bit, will ya?" The older man shoots back.

"Fix your ponytail."

"Please don't be a robot."

"Why am I your student again?"

"I had no choice. Your former teacher hit the loony bin. Why _I _am your teacher is a better question."

"Touché."

Braig goes back on topic. "You're supposed to be using the claymore gracefully, not like some angry villain who wants to chop off heads."

"It does not look like that," Isa huffs.

"Sure does to me. And my opinion is the only one that matters."

"Your opinion is nonsense; at least, it is right now. Look." Isa raises his sword above his head, and closes his eyes to concentrate. He starts a dance of sorts, swinging his weapon and moving in time to an unknown music. Braig watches, with neither amusement nor disappointment in his eyes.

He finishes, his eyes still closed. Somewhere, he hears the clapping. Isa opens his eyes and faces Braig.

"Well, well. Guess you were right."

"The student has taught the master?" Isa has a small smile.

He refuses to admit it. "I won't go that far. Let's just say, you proved me wrong."

* * *

_No. VI, V, and III_

Boring days call for strange games. Three men are sitting at a table, two of them staring intently at each other. The third has more important matters to tend to, and is reading a thickly bound book.

The minutes slowly pass by, and suddenly, the bookworm calls out, monotonously, "Dilan, you blinked. Aeleus wins the staring contest."

Dilan slams his fist down on the table. "What? Ienzo, you weren't paying attention at all. And since when were you the judge? You've been reading that book the entire time."

"Don't question him. You're just a sore loser," Aeleus grins superiorly.

Ienzo shuts his book loudly, and says, "Dilan, I did finish my book awhile ago. I simply wasn't going to pretend to be interested in this game. Aeleus, don't think I did this because of favoritism." He leans back in his chair, and muses, "Now what should we do? It's too hot to go outside, it's too far away from dinner to eat, and I ran out of books to read."

Dilan starts, "We could –", but Ienzo cuts him off.

"No, we are not going to help you ask out that girl you met last week. Or organize your spear collection."

He sulks. "What do you suggest, hm? Going to the library? Ask Even for that."

"Even's too preoccupied with chemicals to leave his house. I was thinking of a game of cards."

"Dolur. Not me or Aeleus."

Ienzo turns to Aeleus, who has not said a word the entire time. "Aeleus? Any ideas?"

"I did order this video game and it came in the mail a few days ago…" Aeleus says offhandedly, "But it's single-player, unless we play Mission Mode."

"I'll take anything over helping Dilan with his love life. We'll take turns," Ienzo gets up and makes his way to the Aeleus's DS.

"Is this it?" Dilan studies the game container. "This isn't a Legend of Zelda game…"

"Like you'd play a Legend of Zelda game on a DS."

"It features a new member of the Organization. And some more spoilers pertaining to the series…" Aeleus begins to list facts about the game.

"We'll see about that," Ienzo turns on the DS, and the screen lights up, revealing the game to be Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days.

* * *

_No. IV_

Like Myde, the he too harbors a passion. Not for music, but for science. The blonde, studious man is tired, but still determined. He wants to discover the answer to his experiment, to make a name for himself. No longer would he be Even the scientist, but Even the _renowned_ scientist.

His wife is uncomplicated and chooses more sensible goals. Including trying to get him to sleep . He is exhausted, enduring countless sleepless nights, but still he persists in his research.

She creeps up behind him in his lab, and wraps her arms around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder. "Even, dear, please go to sleep."

"I'll go there shortly," he says automatically.

"You're lying." She is not angry, only disappointed he wouldn't budge. She kisses his neck tenderly. "How about now?"

"In a few minutes." He wants to give in, he really does. But in his mind, science comes before his wife.

His wife is running out of options, but she saves the best plan for last. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, she whispers in his ear, "How about… You experiment on me?"

No words are said. He merely kisses her forcefully on the lips, and she wraps her legs around his waist as he carries her to the bedroom.

It was an experiment in the name of science, after all.

* * *

_No. I_

"Ansem the Wise, was he always this way?" A prison guard asks the leader of Radiant Garden.

"Quite frankly, I don't know. What I do know is, he is truly at his breaking point. Is there anything that you can do to fix him?"

"We'll take a look." They walk down endless rows of prison cells, and reach one labeled, Xehanort. Peering in through a window, they see a white haired man rocking back and forth, muttering about "X-blades" and "hearts" and "Nobodies".

After some observation, Ansem clears his throat. "I'll go inside to check."

"You'll be alright, sir?"

"Yes, he was under my wing before. I know how to deal with him, even if he is… insane."

Ansem enters the cell and approaches his former student. "Xehanort? It's me, Ansem."

"I am not Xehanort! I am Xenmas! Leader of Organization XIII!"

Ansem shakes his head. "No, you are Xehanort. We worked together for the good of Radiant Garden."

Xehanort, or Xenmas, laughs evilly. "Ansem, I'm carrying out what you yourself began, and I'm creating a brand new world, one heart at a time."

It was unfortunate that such a brilliant mind could lose sanity so easily. Nobodies and Heartless did not exist. The so-called Organization XIII was a delusion. And hearts could not be lost from Keyblades. No, it was a madman doing the talking, and everyone knows not to believe in the insane.

Or should they?


End file.
